by Sean Kikkert
“Ajax, I can’t. This is all so wrong,” Cassandra said. “We can’t go against Telemachus. He’s always been there for me—he was the one who believed in me and supported me when my father died. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Ajax’s face turned bright red as he turned on Cassandra. “Telemachus is going to get us all killed,” he seethed. His fists clenched by his sides, his face a mask of pure fury. Ajax’s eyes bored into Cassandra’s as he shot her a look of absolute loathing. He yelled out angrily and slammed his fist hard into the bench. “Fine! If you’re not going to join me, get out of here!” He held the dagger out in front of him, its wickedly pointed tip glinting with menace at Cassandra. “Go on, get out of here! I’ll find someone else to be my lady.”
Cassandra began crying. She turned and ran away from her friend.
And she didn’t look back.
Chapter 22
Cassandra ran straight to Telemachus’ mansion. Would Ajax chase after her? Surely he knew she’d reveal his intentions to the pack leader. If Ajax was willing to assassinate Telemachus, then maybe he’d be willing to kill Cassandra to stop her speaking with him.
Cassandra’s senses were heightened as she ran, expecting Ajax to attack her at any moment. But deep down, she knew he wasn’t coming after her. Cassandra believed in her heart that Ajax couldn’t find it in himself to kill her—even with knowing she’d go directly to Telemachus.
Painfully out of breath—she wished she’d transformed into her wolf form for the run—Cassandra thumped with all her might upon Telemachus’ door.
Telemachus opened his door, looking like he’d just woken up. “Cassandra, what are you doing here at this hour?”
“Ajax has betrayed us!” Cassandra blurted out. “He’s made a deal with the sheriff and Red Riding Hood! He’s planning to overthrow you and take over as pack leader!”
Telemachus’ face didn’t show any anger, sadness, or concern—there was nothing at all to betray his thoughts. “Okay, we’d better find Ajax,” he said. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do or say to him right now—I’ll work that out once we get to him.”
Together, they ran across the village to Ajax’s home, only to discover it completely empty. Even the boy’s Uncle Leander was nowhere to be seen.
“I guess Ajax is going to be lying low for a while,” Telemachus said.
“Telemachus, please be careful.” Cassandra was anxious. “He’s planning to kill you.”
“Don’t you worry about me.” Telemachus gave Cassandra a fond smile. “I’ll be just fine.”
After a few days, Castor recovered enough to leave the doctor’s home. Cassandra had told him all about Ajax’s betrayal, and the news cut him deeply. Both he and Cassandra lamented their dear friend, and they needed to escape into nature to comfort each other in their heartache. And so, to celebrate Castor’s release from the doctor’s home, they went out into the glorious countryside that surrounded the village. Cassandra noticed something intriguing had happened with her feelings toward Castor—she no longer saw him as weak and uninteresting, and she experienced the first glimmers of admiration for him. Cassandra now found Castor endlessly fascinating and his natural goodness incredibly nourishing.
Cassandra’s day with Castor was wonderful. They spent it almost entirely as wolves—they merrily chased rabbits together at the top of the mountain and then howled at the moon in beautiful harmony. As dark clouds curled across the bright yellow moon, the view from the top of the mountain was breathtaking on that picturesque, star-filled night. It was all so carefree and light-hearted, and Cassandra discovered she felt at ease with Castor—in a way she’d never felt with Ajax.
Upon resuming their human forms, Castor reached over to stroke Cassandra’s hair. “Thanks for going out with me today, Cassandra,” he said. “It’s really meant a lot to me.” He gazed into her face with his brown, puppy-dog eyes.
A cold gust of wind made Cassandra shiver and wrap her arms over her chest. The temperature had plummeted the moment the sun had dipped below the horizon, and she no longer had the benefit of a thick pelt of wolf fur to keep her warm. Castor slipped off his jacket and handed it to Cassandra. She gratefully took it, slipped it over her shoulders, and buttoned it all the way up to her chin.
After a long, contented pause, Cassandra reached over and grabbed Castor’s hand to give it an affectionate squeeze—it was icy cold. She leaned over and whispered, “I may not have always shown it before, but I’m glad to be with you.”
Cassandra felt so happy and content that she simply didn’t want to leave. However, she knew she couldn’t stay there forever. “It’s getting late,” she said. “My mother will be getting worried about me.” Expecting Castor to follow her, Cassandra began to walk toward home. She was surprised, however, when Castor grabbed her around the waist, leaned over, and kissed her gently on the lips.
Cassandra was too stunned to say anything. Castor stroked her hair and looked deep into her eyes—his eyes seemed to grab Cassandra and drag her in. . . .
Taken aback by what had just happened, Cassandra knew one thing for certain: things would never be the same between them.
A lot could change with one kiss.
Lying on the dirt floor of Red Riding Hood’s thatched cottage, Ajax couldn’t sleep. The time had come for him to betray his pack, and he had an uneasy, queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was no other choice, though, he knew that; this was the only way his people were ever going to survive and live in peace. His mind full, Ajax tossed and turned beneath the rough, woolen blanket for hours before he eventually drifted into a fitful sleep.
When Ajax awoke the next morning, he already had butterflies in his stomach. Groggy, he stumbled up from his sleeping mat. It was only fifteen hours until the planned attack on Telemachus, and Ajax knew his anxiety would build with every passing hour. He wasn’t afraid, but guilt gnawed through his soul; Ajax was now nothing more than a traitor to his own kind and a common assassin. He tried his very best to distract himself by chasing rabbits in the forest, but he couldn’t shake the deep foreboding that clung to his conscience.
Ajax grew ever more restless as evening approached. An all-encompassing dread gripped his mind as he finally watched the sun slowly descend behind the hills. The whole sky was ablaze with red and orange, and fine, wispy clouds added their own glints of silver and purple to the warm colors.
The people of the city gathered together in the main square as evening approached.
Ajax made his entrance as Red Riding Hood addressed the throng.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” she said. “The court has failed us, and we can’t rely on our government. So, it is time we take matters in our own hands.” She paused as the crowd murmured its agreement. “We have the werewolves scared of their own shadows—now is the time to strike.”
At this, the city folks roared their approval.
As he made his way through the square, Ajax saw the mob was armed with whips, clubs, swords, pitchforks, hoes, and anything else they’d been able to lay their hands on and call a weapon.
“Our hero is here!” Red Riding Hood could barely contain the excitement in her voice. “This young man is going to overthrow Telemachus and domesticate the werewolves. We will never have trouble from them again!”
The crowd cheered Ajax, and he had to admit he enjoyed their adulation.
Using her magnetic charisma, Red Riding Hood whipped the crowd up into a frenzy, and soon they were roaring for werewolf blood. Riled up and led by Red Riding Hood, the mob set off en masse to storm the werewolf village.
A wolf guard growled as the crowd approached. The thick, silver-gray fur on its hackles stood up straight, its tail raised stiffly.
Without a word of warning, one of the mob fired his crossbow at the wolf. The arrow was aimed true and struck the wolf strai
ght in the eye with tremendous force. Caught in mid-snarl, the wolf dropped dead to the ground.
Ignited by bloodlust, the mob stormed the village. They broke down doors and burst into houses and threw furniture and the wolves’ meager belongings out into the streets. They set fire to haystacks, fields, and homes.
Ajax broke away from the mob and went along with Red Riding Hood and ten of the vicious throng to Telemachus’ house. Telemachus looked out of his window to see his home surrounded by men with flaming torches, clubs, swords, and pitchforks.
“Okay, now it’s time to show us if you’re really on our side, wolf boy,” Red Riding Hood said to Ajax.
Lines of worry furrowed Ajax’s brow. He froze, not quite sure what to do. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he whispered back with uncertainty.
Red Riding Hood shook her head in reproach. “You’ve gone too far to back out now,” she snapped. “We made a pact. I’ve kept my part—I’m willing to spare you and those who choose to follow you. You have no choice but to uphold your part of the bargain, Ajax.”
Red Riding Hood selected a large, smooth rock and heaved it with all her strength through Telemachus’ window. The harsh sound of shattering glass filled the night air as the pane smashed into a thousand pieces.
Ajax hesitated for a moment before grabbing a flaming torch from one of the mobsters and hurling it through the broken window. A sick feeling of guilt punched at Ajax’s stomach as, within seconds, Telemachus’ living room was engulfed in flames.
The door of the house burst open. Ajax snapped his head around so fast it almost gave him whiplash. Framed by the splintered doorframe, Telemachus stood barefoot on his front porch, clad in only his pants. He looked so menacing, so large and muscular in the shadows and silhouetted by the rapidly spreading flames—Telemachus made a terrifying image indeed.
Telemachus stood there, staring into nothingness, as flames shot up from his home to light up the night sky. He barely even glanced at the cowardly men before him; they’d backed away behind Ajax and Red Riding Hood, their faces filled with fear. Instead, he looked at the two figures bathed in the orange glow of the blaze. His eyes fixed upon Ajax. The look on the pack leader’s face was one of abject betrayal, which quickly turned deadly.
Ajax and Red Riding Hood stood frozen in fear as Telemachus leaped from his front porch and bolted toward them. Telemachus jumped through the air, his muscles twitching and convulsing, as sharp, glinting claws burst through his fingertips. When he landed back on the ground, Telemachus was a monstrous, midnight-black wolf.
Quickly, Ajax and Red Riding Hood came to their senses and sprinted around the corner of the great house with all the speed they could muster.
The other mob members tried to stop Telemachus, but he pushed through them with very little effort—they all scattered and fell around him like toppled ninepins.
Ajax saw Telemachus was after him, and the rush of fear and adrenaline gave him a burst of speed he didn’t know was possible. However, Telemachus, fueled by pure fury, quickly gained on him. With a howl of rage, Telemachus made a lunge for Ajax . . . but missed. Ajax dodged and stumbled but quickly regained his balance and continued to run.
Ajax’s feelings of remorse evaporated in an instant. All that mattered now was that he finished what he started, that he stay alive. Ajax reached inside his jacket and pulled out his curved silver dagger, and Telemachus’ eyes grew wide. With a loud grunt, Ajax lunged at Telemachus with the deadly blade, but Telemachus dodged him with skillful ease.
Fear gripped Ajax as he realized stabbing Telemachus with the silver dagger wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. Nevertheless, his attack had done the trick—Telemachus still pursued him, while keeping his distance.
Lungs burning, gasping for air, Ajax raced to his house. By the time he made it there, hot, salty sweat dripped from his forehead and stung his eyes, and his heart pounded hard and heavy in his chest. Ajax reached into his pocket as he ran and pulled out the key. He tried desperately to fit his key into the lock with trembling fingers. Finally, it slotted in and turned with a reassuring click. Struggling to catch his breath, Ajax hurtled through the door and quickly slammed it closed behind him.
Ajax shot a backward glance and saw that Telemachus was in front of his house. Shaking with fear, Ajax twisted the key in the lock to secure the door.
Enraged, Telemachus slammed his huge paws hard against Ajax’s door, rattling the wood in its frame. He glowered at Ajax through the window, and then all of a sudden Telemachus no longer looked angry or murderous—he just looked sad. Like all the fire had left Telemachus’ belly. Telemachus turned around and left.
Chapter 23
Cassandra was lying on her sleeping mat, almost dozing off to sleep, when her mother burst through the door.
“Something’s wrong! I can sense it,” her mother told her. “I’m going to patrol the village. Harmonia is already asleep, and I don’t want to disturb her. I want you both to stay inside with the door locked.”
Cassandra looked out through the window to see her mother leap through the air as a lithe, silvery she-wolf before disappearing into the darkness.
Of course, Cassandra couldn’t sleep after her mother’s sinister premonition. A noise outside startled her. Cassandra held her breath and listened, an ominous chill running through her body.
There it was again.
Trembling, Cassandra scrambled from her sleeping mat, jumped to her feet, and rushed downstairs. Still holding her breath—Cassandra didn’t even dare to breathe—she gazed out the window. Everywhere she looked, she saw glowing, orange flames.
Her village was on fire.
Shrill, terrified screams filled the night air—her people were dying out there!
Squinting out into the night, Cassandra imagined she saw something just outside her window, but she couldn’t be sure as to precisely what.
Was that a figure skulking in the shadows?
Cassandra’s heartbeat quickened. Blinding streaks of lightning crackled across the darkened sky as the wind hurled fat raindrops against the window, and that all-too-familiar, icy feeling of dread crept over Cassandra as she peered out into the darkness.
Cassandra let out a startled cry as, suddenly, the window exploded around her and shards of shattered glass showered the room. She shielded her face and brushed the shards of glass from her hair and clothes.
Before Cassandra could gather her senses, a shadowy figure leaped through the broken window. Cassandra staggered backward, her eyes focused on the figure—it was Red Riding Hood. Although she hadn’t seen the young woman before, Cassandra knew immediately who she was by the blood-red cloak she wore about her slender shoulders; there had been plenty of talk around the village about the strange, beautiful young woman with such a hatred for werewolves.
“W-what the . . . ?” Cassandra stammered as she stared into the intruder’s deep blue eyes. All she saw there was emptiness; it was as if Red Riding Hood was completely devoid of emotion and possessed no living soul. Cassandra’s stomach turned as Red Riding Hood smiled at her—it was such a cruel, taunting smile.
Red Riding Hood lunged before Cassandra had a chance to scream. Adrenaline flooded through Cassandra’s body, and her mind clouded over in panic as Red Riding Hood grabbed her roughly around the shoulders. Terrified, Cassandra desperately tried to remember her combat lessons, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate.
Cassandra did manage to remember Ajax’s words to her: Don’t hesitate!
Cassandra struck Red Riding Hood in the throat as hard as she could manage with the heel of her hand. Red Riding Hood let Cassandra go and grasped at her throat. She staggered back and spluttered and gasped for air like a freshly landed trout. Cassandra attempted to follow up with a roundhouse kick to Red Riding Hood’s temple, but she grabbed Cassandra’s leg and swept the other out f
rom beneath her with one expertly placed foot.
Cassandra hit the wooden floor hard. The impact knocked all the air from her lungs and sent stars spinning behind her eyes. Red Riding Hood loomed angrily over Cassandra as she curled up to protect herself. Cassandra whimpered a little but remained determined not to beg for her life—she wasn’t going to give Red Riding Hood that satisfaction.
Much to Cassandra’s surprise, Red Riding Hood began clapping. “I see Telemachus’ combat training is paying off.” She smiled down at Cassandra—it was an ugly, malevolent smile. “Although I’m impressed by your technique, I can’t let you get away with it.” Red Riding Hood stepped toward Cassandra. “I’ve been training as well, you see. Only, I’ve been training to kill werewolves . . . and I happen to be very good at it.”
Cassandra tried to gather the concentration she needed to transform, but she was in far too much pain. Red Riding Hood was already coming for her again, and Cassandra knew she needed to focus on protecting herself against the inevitable attack. Gasping for air and fighting the pain that wracked her body, Cassandra scrambled to her feet. She managed to pull herself up just before Red Riding Hood got close enough to throw a haymaker punch at her face. Cassandra stepped deftly to the side and hit her assailant’s arm as hard as she could—right behind the elbow. There was a dull snapping sound as Red Riding Hood’s elbow dislocated. With her opponent’s arm disabled, Cassandra drove her fist deep into Red Riding Hood’s unguarded ribs. Cassandra maneuvered herself behind the young woman and swept a leg at her ankle. Red Riding Hood slammed into the floor with a dull thud. Without wasting a moment, Cassandra fled to the door.
